“You make me feel like a slacker.” Even hearing about all her activities made me tired.
She waved dismissively at me. “Are you thinking about college?”
“Yup. I really want Rutgers, which has this amazing theatre program.” If I can get in and keep Mom and Dad from guilting me out of it, a little voice reminded me, but I pushed on. “I want to train as much as I can under the best, and it’s so close to New York City. It even has a one-year residency at the Globe Theatre in London. Can you imagine?” Ann’s grin grew extra-wide and I looked at her suspiciously—I didn’t think there was anything funny about my answer. “What?”
“I swear, you lit up so much when you answered that question. No history, though?”
“Maybe as a minor, but acting is my dream. I want to focus on making it happen.” I picked at the stitching on the quilt on my bed. “How about you?”
“I’m actually thinking of spending a year as a part of a volunteer corp. They have a program where I’d live with the other volunteers in a city or town in the US and work with the poor and marginalized.” I was about to comment, but Ann put up a finger up in a “wait” gesture. “And then I think I want to become a music teacher.”
“Music teacher is a little bit anticlimactic after all of your volunteer stuff,” I pointed out with a grin.
“Well, I didn’t want to sound too selfless. I’m saving some of that for tomorrow.”
She and I lasted about two seconds before we both cracked up. I got up and pulled back the covers on my bed. “Good idea. And, with that, I’m going to sleep before you recruit me into one of your volunteer things.”
“That reminds me. We’re doing soup kitchen—”
I flicked off the lamp next to my bed and pulled the covers over my head. “Good night, Ann.”
Ann snort-laughed, then I could hear the shuffling on her side of the room, followed by her lamp switching off. “’Night, Em.”
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher The plan is afoot!
BookishArcher: @Emmiebear The plan makes no sense
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher The plan is pure genius because the person who came up with the plan is pure genius
BookishArcher: @EmmieBear *watches as the plan-maker BLOWS EVERYTHING OUT OF PROPORTION* Really?
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher You love me. You know that.
GCorreaCheer: @EmmieBear @BookishArcher What is this plan you two are talking about?
BookishArcher: @GCorreaCheer I’ll tell you about it later. Em’s being Em again @EmmieBear
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher @GCorreaCheer Yes. And I’m being brilliant.
GCorreaCheer: @EmmieBear @BookishArcher I do not want to read some news story about you getting kicked out for setting a certain someone’s suitcase on fire or something
BookishArcher: @GCorreaCheer @EmmieBear She would never do that
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher Thank you @GCorreaCheer
BookishArcher: @GCorreaCheer It’s too subtle @EmmieBear
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher Look who gets all snarky when she’s typing instead of talking @GCorreaCheer
GCorreaCheer: @EmmieBear @BookishArcher I know, isn’t it cute?
BookishArcher: @GCorreaCheer @EmmieBear Stop calling me cute! We’re picking on Em right now for her crazypants plan
GCorreaCheer: @BookishArcher @EmmieBear Right. Priorities.
GCorreaCheer: @BookishArcher @EmmieBear Speaking of, I need to go warm up. Grab me during halftime, Feebs.
EmmieBear: @GCorreaCheer @BookishArcher *Is totally not bummed to be missing a Saturday night football game*
BookishArcher: @EmmieBear Rub it in, why don’t you? @GCorreaCheer
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher Oh, go make out with your boyfriend under the bleachers before the game starts. I have plotting to do @GCorreaCheer
BookishArcher: @EmmieBear Em.
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher: Feebs. Lecture later. now.
DevTheGreat: @BookishArcher @EmmieBear I wholly approve of this suggestion
BookishArcher: @DevTheGreat @EmmieBear … ugh.
EmmieBear: @BookishArcher Logging off- plotty and kissy time now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love ya, you little cinnamon roll
BookishArcher: @EmmieBear
The dining room was practically empty when I made it downstairs on Sunday morning, so I grabbed a muffin and coffee and headed towards the sitting room. Hanging out on a comfy sofa near a fireplace that the inn staff seemed to keep going twenty-four hours a day sounded like a great way to pass the hour until all the church people got back from their services. Just as I stepped out into the hallway, I froze as a familiar figure came my way.
It was clear Kris hadn’t found his hair gel. But that didn’t stop him from looking like he’d stepped straight off of the Neitan Markus website, from his unmistakably designer jeans to the fitted grey henley that probably cost more than my entire outfit combined. Not the stiff button down shirt and slacks I’d expected, but still posh casual. Of course. “Morning.” I stepped aside to give him direct access to the dining room door, but he leaned against the doorframe, instead, and yawned.
I stopped myself from only saying, “Good morning” and going on my merry way. There was no time like the present to implement plan “Murder Kris with Kindness.” The handle of my coffee mug dug into my hand and I balanced some of the weight on my muffin plate while pasting on a smile. “No religious observation for you this morning?” They’d set up vans for the past two days to take us to services for any religions that might have weekend worship. Kris was Presbyterian of some sort and should have been with the bunch that went this morning.
“Not this week.” He shrugged and poked his head into the dining room. “Is that bacon I smell?”
“The muffins smell better,” I said, waving my plate in front of him as seductively as I could. “I’m surprised. Aren’t you, like, the president of your church’s youth group or something?” I leaned back against the wall and the button of my off-white wrap sweater dug into my back. But I didn’t mind- it was cozy, my best friend made it for me, and the way it curved around my waist and hips looked awesome.
“I decided sleeping in would be nice today. My mom would kill me if she heard me say this, but I think I can deal with taking a Sunday off. You didn’t go?”
“Nope, I’m agnostic. No weekly deity worship for me.”
He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, like he was studying me. I waited for the judgmental look theist people like him gave me when they found out I wasn’t on the same religious page as them. But, weirdly, his expression wasn’t exactly what I expected. After a second of just watching me, he pointed with his thumb into the dining room. “You aren’t eating in your room, are you?”
I choked back the urge to say a simple “no” and instead said, “I wanted to eat in the sitting room. It’s not so cold in there—the dining room’s freezing.”
“I’m surprised. You’d think this would be pretty warm.” He reached out and skimmed the sleeve of my sweater with his fingers. I barely felt his light touch through the thick wool, but it was enough to make me freeze in place. “I’ve never seen anything like this sweater.” His gaze followed the line of the sweater as it curved around my waist and, at that moment, the sweater felt way too warm. “I like how it has the button in the back.”
My mouth was suddenly dry and it took me a second to find words. “Phoebe made it for me.”
He nodded, almost like he was approving my wardrobe choice. His eyes met mine and I could see the gold flecks in them despite the dim morning light. “She did a really good job. It’s different, in a good way, kind of like you.”
I snapped out of my Kris-charm-bubble—hunger must have weakened my immunity. “I’ll let Feebs know.” I said, my tone short. I clamped my mouth shut before any more of my annoyance at myself could turn into snark against him and awkward silence took over.
Kris didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was too polished to let it show. “Okay, bacon’s calling, so I’m not goin
g to keep you standing here.” Taking a posture like a cartoon character floating after a really good food smell, he ducked into the dining room and I held back a laugh. This was Operation: Be Disturbingly Nice, not Operation: Pretend Kris Is Hilarious.
“Damnit.”
The sitting room was deserted. I grabbed the armchair closest to the fireplace and settled in with my coffee, pulling A Doll’s House up on my tablet. With all of the inn’s Victoriana surrounding me, it wasn’t hard to imagine myself in 1870’s Denmark, and I started mouthing Nora’s lines, trying to get into her head. Act One Nora was light and flirty and naïve, this woman who spent her whole life doing and being everything the men in her life expected her to be, but her little rebellious streak slipped through once in a while. That would be interesting to balance, especially as that already started evolving into something deeper by the end of the act. I sat back in the chair and focused on picking the streusel top off my muffin, popping it into my mouth like Nora’s macaroons. I was halfway through destroying the best crunchy bits and mouthing Nora’s “I’m damned” with a giggle when a familiar voice broke into my thoughts.
“Cozy. The guy’s building in this inn doesn’t have anything this awesome.” Kris dropped into the other armchair, one hand balancing a plate, the other holding a glass of orange juice.
“You have the gym,” I pointed out as I slipped my tablet onto the coffee table, adding, “Why are you here?” Okay, that wasn’t too rude.
“The only people left in the dining room are the weird guy from Oregon who only eats chicken nuggets and the girl from Nevada who was actually doing homework.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Seriously? Who does that? I thought for a second about bringing my homework, and then the get-a-life fairy smacked some sense into me.”
“I know. So I thought this sounded like as good a place as any to hang out for a while.” He put his plate on the coffee table and I noticed it was piled high with waffles and bacon. “I like my breakfast with conversation.”
“That’s devil’s bacon,” I pointed out, and laughed at the confusion on his face. “Because you skipped church for it.”
“Well, if I’m going to Hell, at least the trip will be tasty.” He rolled his waffle around the bacon and made it into a wrap-like shape. Boys.
My phone buzzed and two messages popped up at almost the same time. The first from Grace was punctuated with about a million frowny faces. Just heard from Phoebe about your “plan.” Bad idea. Call me. Not a huge surprise—Phoebe probably called her right after we hung up. The second, from Alec, was a lot more straightforward. This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Focus on your speech. Phoebe worked fast. I deleted the notifications and shoved the phone back in my pocket. Both of those could wait.
Kris took a bite of the waffle-roll and chewed dramatically for a few seconds with a look of exaggerated bliss on his face. “Why are you agnostic, anyway?” he asked after swallowing. At least he didn’t talk with his mouth full.
I bristled at his question. “That’s a very personal question,” I said, my voice stiff and alien. Non-plan me would have told him to bugger off, but plan-me had to be at least a little bit civil.
“I’m curious.”
The coffee mug suddenly became my best friend as I clutched it in both hands, the hot ceramic burning my palms. “I’m not in the mood to have someone try to convert me or bring me back into the fold or whatever else you’re trying to do.” My annoyance trigger was held by a hair and I braced myself for a pushy lecture from yet another religious know-it-all.
He surprised me with his next sentence. “I’m not trying to convert you, honest. I’m just curious.”
I took a sip of coffee and used those seconds to study his face. There really wasn’t anything but interest there, but Kris had perfected the ability to look like he cared over years of campaigning for class office. “I don’t have any evidence that higher beings exist. And until I do, I’m pretty happy not affiliating myself with any of them but also not doing anything to piss them off, either.”
Kris leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What if not picking a side is already ‘pissing off’ a deity?”
“Or deities,” I corrected him. “Not everyone is monotheistic, you know.”
“Fine. What if you’re already making a deity or a bunch of deities mad?”
“See, my point exactly. I’ll make my decision when I see some evidence.” I dismissed his question with a wave of the mug.
“If you ask me, our very existence, when all the probabilities are so stacked against it, is proof.”
The mug went down and I curled my fingers in the sleeves of my sweater to keep him from seeing how much he was starting to aggravate me. I twisted the chunky knit around my thumbs tight enough to almost cut off circulation. “I told you, I don’t want to be converted. So if that’s what you’re trying to do, quit wasting your breath.”
He responded by shaking his head, then pushing back the hair that fell over his forehead. It made him look much more earnest and approachable than his usual stiff hairstyle. “Seriously, no ulterior motive here. You do your thing, I just love a good debate, like the one we had in the summit yesterday.”
“That wasn’t a debate. That was me arguing with you because I was right and you were wrong.” His eyebrows went up and eyes narrowed in a skeptical look until I backed down. “Okay, I’ll play, but you should know it’s way too early to think.” I propped my elbows on the chair arms and steepled my fingers. “Tell me why I should care about someone or something I can’t see and doesn’t seem to want to involve itself in our lives?” I’d said this a million times to so many people, including my parents, that it just rolled off my tongue with barely a thought.
He took a moment to polish off his breakfast in two quick inhales, then, with a nod, asked, “I disagree about not getting involved in our lives, but since you’re all about evidence, remember that religion, with all the messages about love and hope and charity, gives us guidance and inspires people to be their best.”
This answer was easy. “Balanced out by religious wars and persecution. Those people apparently didn’t get the memo. Besides, I’m a pretty good person and I’m not religious. I don’t need some guy in a pulpit telling me to be a decent human being. Or do you think I’m not a good person?”
“I didn’t say—”
Before he could finish, I cut him off. I was on a roll and, weirdly, kind of enjoying this back-and-forth. It was better than caffeine. “Why doesn’t this divine being stop all the bad in the world?”
“Maybe we’re supposed to be the ones who do that. You know, go out and do good? Sometimes the miracle isn’t that something magically appears, but, instead, that we, against all common sense or human instinct, sacrifice our time or comfort or lives for others. Strength or courage coming from the divine in our lives and ourselves.” He let the thought hang in the air before leaning even further forward and adding, “I’m guessing you don’t believe miracles or divine interventions are possible.”
“I haven’t seen any. Plus, let’s talk about your cousin. Noelle volunteered with sick kids and used to go into Camden and Philly to help out in freakin’ soup kitchens, but she still died because of some weird heart problem. If anyone deserved divine intervention, it would have been her.” The memory of her collapsing during field hockey practice in gym rushed back, even though it had already been two years. I had the same question back then.
“You’re right.” His usual confidence had melted to be replaced by two soft, sad words.
I opened my mouth to challenge him some more, but his quiet answer threw me off. I took a quick sip of coffee to put myself back on-balance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring her into this.” Looking back now, I could see the family resemblance. Noelle had the same eyes. Funny, I knew Kris was related to a bunch of our classmates, but I never put two and two together with him and Noelle.
He smiled, which was something I didn’t expect. “Don’t be. F
or someone who said she was too sleepy to debate, you really went for the jugular.” He scratched the back of his head then tilted back until it hit the back of the chair and he was staring at the wood ceiling. “I pretty much said the same thing to my dad at her wake. It was really, really hard to understand how I could keep believing in anything, you know, when someone like Noelle could just…” He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and dropping with the effort before he continued. “But hope is a pretty awesome thing. And I know she’s watching all the good the charity is doing in her name and smiling. Her mom and dad could have given up and let the sadness take over and everyone would have understood, you know? But, their faith and hope helped them and, instead, they turned this really terrible thing into something that’s giving hundreds of kids the gift of music in their lives.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, his unpolished and unguarded tone throwing me off. This was a side of Kris I’d never seen before. “Miracles must exist if you have a soft spot for a music charity, even if it was because of your cousin. What’s next? Joining orchestra? I think Osoba might find you a seat playing triangle or something.” My attempt at a joke hung in the air and I hoped it would break the cloud that hung over us since my stupid outburst. I wanted to mess with Kris’ mind, but not by dragging a dead girl into the conversation. That would make me no better than him.
“Right.” He rolled his head to look at me, his soft smile morphing into a grin. Regular Kris was back with a vengeance. “And I just got you to admit that miracles exist. Which means I win this debate.”
My brows drew together and I shook my head. “Whoa, you said I was right. I won fair and square.”
“I said you were right about Noelle deserving divine intervention. Not about the possibility that a higher being might not exist.” He reached over to poke me in the arm playfully. “I almost never take on a challenge I can’t win.”
“You’re aggravating.” Still, a smile tickled the edge of my lips and I pressed them tighter together.
His next words surprised me. “And you love debating.”
Dramatically Ever After Page 9